


Tales and Tallows

by HereComesAThought



Series: A Love Story, and the Moments in Between [2]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Angsty Vilkas, F/M, Falling In Love, Flash Fic, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Ghosts, Happy Halloween!, Romance, Sad and Sweet, Sad boi, Sadness, Spooky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:14:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27242527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HereComesAThought/pseuds/HereComesAThought
Summary: Vilkas takes a trip deep into the woods on the spookiest night of the year in hopes of seeing the spirit of someone he lost long ago, and runs into someone he never expected to see.
Relationships: Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Vilkas, Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Vilkas, Vilkas (Elder Scrolls)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: A Love Story, and the Moments in Between [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1934719
Comments: 7
Kudos: 14





	Tales and Tallows

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, hello!
> 
> Lovely to see you, happy you're here. I hope you'd like to enjoy some very lightly spooky romance fodder in the spirit of Halloween!

_“Please talk to me…”_

Vilkas stood alone in the clearing. His soft whispers carried on the chilling night winds, barely louder than the dry rustling of leaves still clinging to their branches. 

_“Please talk to me…”_ His knees sank into the soft earth before the great, looming oak. 

He repeated his prayer. 

It had always seemed fitting that they’d buried her here. Deep in the woods, to share the soil with this towering tree, solitary in the center of a large meadow. She was beautiful, the oak, but not just that. Beautiful wasn’t enough. Majestic. _Resplendent._ A living statue of mother nature, casting her arms to the heavens, stretching out with a quiet grace, reaching her hands down to the earth. The perfect resting place. And, still, the sight of her had always struck fear into him. The massive, silent guardian watching over _her_ grave. The lonely place where it could not be denied that she was gone. The quiet place where she never answered.

_“Please talk to me…”_

He felt a presence in the woods far behind him. The wind picked up its cold moaning, obscuring any quiet sounds made by the new arrival. Vilkas tried to focus his senses, but couldn’t think past the sudden dryness in his mouth. The presence grew closer. 

_After all these years…_

His nervous grip strangled the stems of the white hydrangeas he’d selected for the visit. He wanted to turn and look, but his body trapped him in place.

“Vilkas?” the soft voice called, full of warmth and concern.

He shot to his feet, swinging around to witness the small shadowy figure emerge from the treeline, an ethereal specter of silvery white...but it wasn’t her.

_“...Ma’assan.”_

He wasn’t sure if he’d ever tasted anything so bittersweet. His clenching muscles sank into relaxation with a disappointed sigh when the silver haired elf revealed herself in the glowing moonlight. The night was black against the radiant shine of her steely waves, flowing freely about her deep golden face and down to the low cut of a white linen dress. He’d never seen her wear a dress before. He would’ve remembered. It looked soft...and thin, strapped loosely over her elegant shoulders and collarbones, held high and proud. He sometimes wondered if she came from nobility, but she never seemed keen on answering questions about her background. The fabric billowed like the robes of a celestial, and silhouetted her lithe figure. It looked to be nothing more than a nightgown, especially as she was clearly wearing nothing beneath it.

“What are you doing in the woods?” she asked as she drew closer. “Sundown was hours ago.”

_What is **she** doing in the woods? Unarmed! Why didn’t I hear her footsteps? Or smell her? _

“I could ask you the same.”

“ _I’m_ a sorceress. This is one of the most magically sensitive nights of the year.”

_Magic. She isn’t unarmed. She must’ve been cloaking herself._

“Of course.” He sighed. “Come to the woods to sacrifice an animal, then?”

“ _Actually_ ,” she drawled with a slow blink of her violet eyes, “I’d planned to dance naked around a bonfire with the spirits of the dead, but then I saw you, kneeled in the dark before a great spooky tree. Nords _do not_ play well with spooky things. It’s _dangerous_ after dark on Tales and Tallows. The scary stories aren’t just tales for children. Even the rest of the Companions locked the doors to Jorrvaskr before night. What are you doing out here?”

It made sense that she would be concerned, she was right. Before his lycanthropy, he would never have stepped outside after dark on Tales and Tallows: The one day a year that mages, spirits, demons, and monsters of all sorts wielded wild reign of the night. But, he’d been one of those monsters for a long time, and he’d come to this spot annually for a decade. At some point in the night, his wolf would demand satisfaction, but for now he could feel it resting up for later.

“I’ll be alright, I’ve done it before.” Again, the wind pressed the thin linen of her dress over her pert breasts and tight stomach. He swallowed. “Aren’t you worried? Being alone?” A wide, cunning grin crept over her plump lips.

“ _No._ ” 

_The look in her eyes tells me others should be, though I’ve not seen her magic myself. Maybe we truly are lucky to have her in our ranks._

“Come,” she said, “let me take you back to town.”

_Chivalrous too._

“Thank you, but...I’m staying.” He clenched tight the bouquet hanging in his grasp.

Her pale eyes fell to the milky white flowers before rolling slowly up the height of the great oak. She drafted a deep breath, and her gaze fell to the soft grass beneath the tree.

“Do you come here every year?” She turned her piercing orbs on him again, and all he wanted to do was tell her the truth.

“...Yes…”

“Do you ever see who you want to see?” 

“...No…”

She held his gaze for a long while, then came forward. He turned over his shoulder to watch her pass him and sit near the wide trunk of the tree.

“Well, maybe this year will be different,” she said. He turned around, brow furrowed.

“It seems that way.”

“It should. You’ve a protector now.”

_If only you knew what you really shared this meadow with. There’s no one worth your protection here. I should leave now, before my beast wakes._

“ _Mm_.” He came to sit beside her. “That must be why I feel so warm and fuzzy inside.”

“You jest, but you’ll be thankful when I keep a handful of bored ghosts from terrorizing the color out of your hair.”

“Is that what happened to you?” He grinned. She gave an audible exhale and broke into a pearly white smile. His stomach jumped with excitement. _No. I can’t stay. I have to leave._

“ _Ha-ha._ I happen to know you like my hair.”

“And how would you know that, _if_ it were true?”

“The way you look at me.” She said rather matter of factly. “Your eyes _twinkle_ when it blows back in the wind... _and_ Farkas told me.” Her soft smile twisted into a smirk. _My damned brother can never keep anything to himself. Especially in the presence of someone like her. He probably all but shouted the gossip._ Vilkas huffed and searched the darkness of the forest to avoid her purple satin eyes. 

“I’m human aren’t I? I have eyes, and you are...the way you are.”

“The way I am?”

“Yes.”

“And what way is that?”

“You know well enough.”

“I don’t.”

_She does._

“Warm, kind... _beautiful..._ Anyone’s eyes would twinkle at the shine of your hair.” He narrowed his eyes on nothing in particular and clenched his teeth. Her soft hand rested atop his, and electricity seized his lungs.

“I’ve not noticed _anyone’s._ I’ve noticed yours.”

He looked down at their hands, and turned his over to meet her palm. He spread his fingers wide, smiling at how small her hand was to his; the small, capable hands that bested him in combat the first day they met. He admired the formidable strength of those hands, and the woman wielding them. _Why does she always find herself alone with me? Why does she touch me like this? She could have anyone…_

He finally turned to meet her eyes, and it was as he feared. She looked into his spirit, and the air around him grew thin. Her slender fingers weaved between his to lock their hands together. Warmth bloomed from the center of his chest, wrapping over his body to hold him in a kind of safety he hadn’t felt in a long time. It was always moments like these that his beast ripped away. 

His eyes flashed with fire, and an involuntary rumble vibrated low in his throat. Vilkas whipped his head away and yanked his hand from her grasp.

“Are you alright?”

“This is wrong,” he growled, jumping to his feet and staring up at the oak. 

“What? Why?”

“We shouldn’t be doing this here...or anywhere.” He set the flowers down and began to draw back, retreating into the treeline and swallowing the trembling lump swelling in his throat. “Thank you for the company. Goodnight.”

“Vilkas, wait!” 

Ma’assan stood alone in the clearing. 

_He always runs…_

All was quiet. Even the wind had stopped rustling the barren trees. She sighed, and turned to gaze up at the grand, sprawling tree. She could _sense_ something, a presence. The quiet ambient seemed to begin growing louder. Chirping crickets began to scream all around, the crack of branches echoed from the darkness, and the oak began to moan a mournful hymn. The presence grew closer. The wind rushed her with a howl, thrusting her toward the woods like a great invisible hand through the air. 

_“Follow him,”_ a woman’s breathy voice commanded.

She gasped through the sudden fright and caught her balance, huffing for air and searching for the spirit that tossed her. The forest’s noises were near deafening, and the restless wind began to swirl again. Most ghouls on this night would find it unnecessary to remain so vague and recluse. It was the only night where the dead could easily show themselves and interact with the living. _Maybe she’s hiding…_ Ma’assan had no interest in bothering bashful spirits on this night or any, and planned to always respect their wishes. _Follow him._ She turned, and hurried down the path Vilkas took, the unsettling noises cutting off as soon as she broke the treeline.

The oak stood alone in the clearing.

A slender, translucent hand wrapped around the bruised stems of the hydrangeas and lifted them up. The woman who wasn’t here anymore hugged them close and smiled, before fading again with her blossoms.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Another quick flash fic while I continue working on the main story. I enjoy spending time with these two <3
> 
> If you’ve read the Blood of the Beast, the next work in the series, then you’ll know who our mysterious spirit is. Read on if you haven’t yet and would like to find out (:


End file.
